


Find Your Way

by Enchantable



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Max was little he'd bring back things from walks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find Your Way

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Chuck and Herc reunited!

"You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?" 

Max whines and Herc sighs. It’s raining out, something neither of them is particularly fond of but Max is taking his sweet time doing his business. Herc isn’t supposed to be out here, but he’d practically murdered the person who offered to walk Max. He just—he isn’t ready to let someone else hold the dog’s leash. 

His new uniform is itchy and he hates it. He’d rather be in his t-shirts and cargos. Stacker’s the one with the stomach for bureaucracy. A Jaeger is the only place Herc’s ever belonged. Only place he’s ever wanted to be. Max gives an experimental sniff to a patch of grass and Herc runs his hand over his face, thinking of the hours of meetings he has to go to.

He’s got to justify what they did. 

Black market explosives, all the Jaegers gone—there’s so much fucking paperwork he’s got half a mind to swim down to the bottom of the ocean, drag Stacker up and make him do it himself. Even in death is old friend is getting the last laugh. Except there’s a pit in Herc’s stomach and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to laugh again. He’s supposed to be numb, numb and drunk but he isn’t either. He can’t be. 

He’s somehow the most senior person on the base. 

Marshall Herc Hansen. 

He sounds like the world’s worst superhero. If he closes his eyes he thinks he can picture Chuck laughing at it. But then he corrects himself because Chuck wouldn’t. He’d glare and mutter and when he was in his head he’d tell him he was going to be a Marshall in a shorter amount of time. Just to prove he could. 

"Stupid," Herc mutters, not sure if he’s talking about himself or the boy or the dog who just won’t do his business, “would you hurry up?" he demands. 

Max looks off into the distance and barks. Herc glares furiously at the bulldog as he barks again, like he’s fucking calling to someone. Herc focuses on the dog and fights not to snarl like one. 

"Shut up!" he orders the dog because Max is barking like there’s something out there and Herc knows there isn’t. Five sweeps instead of the usual three. He knows. Max barks again and the world becomes misty as Herc fights back a weakness he can’t afford to show, “I said shut up you stupid dog! He isn’t out there!" 

Except Max rips free of his hand and bolts and Herc discovers Max isn’t nearly as stupid as he thinks. 

That or he’s gone insane. 

Because Max is on top of a dead man, barking loudly like he’s found a fucking bone. Dead is relative though because dead doesn’t laugh loudly and it doesn’t call a dog who won’t make in a rainstorm a good boy. Herc’s glad that he’s not holding the leash because he can barely stand as he looks at the dead man kneeling in front of him.

"I told you those escape pods were a waste of money," he says. 

Herc doesn’t remember what happens next. Only that his knuckles explode with pain and then he’s clutching Chuck to him like he’s some punk kid who missed curfew by a few hours. Not some experienced pilot whose beacon malfunctioned. He feels Chuck go ram rod straight in his arms. This isn’t a hug though. Herc needs to feel that he’s not lost his entire fucking mind. That Chuck is really, truly in front of him. 

"Dad?" Chuck sounds stunned and Herc swears, “wha—"

"Shut up," Herc croaks, because he’s still not sure this isn’t a dream or a hallucination and if it is he doesn’t ever want to wake up. 

He pushes Chuck back and looks at him. If it’s a dream it’s a bad one because Chuck looks awful. He’s dehydrated and there are deep circles under his eyes. His suit’s malfunctioned, that much is clear and the smell coming off him almost makes Herc’s eyes water. But he’s looking at Herc like he’s gone insane and the shock in his eyes makes him look like he’s that nine year old kid Herc pulled out of the ashes of his school. 

"You’re here," Herc croaks out.

"Yeah," Chuck says, “where else would I be?"

Dead, Herc thinks. You’re supposed to be dead. I heard you say your last words. You talked about me and then you died honorably which is bullshit because your mother died honorably too and that doesn’t make it any better. It just makes it worse that I couldn’t save either of you. 

Then he sees the anger and indigence filling Chuck’s eyes.

"You thought I was dead," the younger man says and anger creeps into his voice and Herc realizes that he isn’t insane. Not yet anyway. Because only Chuck would get mad that his father took his final words seriously, “you—"

Chuck trails off and Herc realizes he’s crying for real now. Tears are pouring down his face and though he bites his cheek he can’t stop the sound that comes from deep in his chest. His boy is alive and he’s so relieved, so damn relieved, he can’t see straight. Chuck gapes at him and he realizes it’s been years and years since he showed his son anything but blind determination masquerading as strength. 

"I know I was right about those escape pods," he says, steering them back to comfortable ground. 

"If you were right about them they’d have worked," Chuck shoots back. 

"They got you out of there didn’t they?" 

"To the surface," Chuck says, “I had to swim back." 

Herc laughs and wipes at his cheek as he grabs Max’s leash.

"My heart bleeds for you," he says, “you’re just damn lucky they didn’t issue your death certificate," he adds, “I’d have made you do the paperwork to clear it off."

"Is that right Marshall?" Chuck asks. 

Herc looks for the indignity for the challenge in his eyes but doesn’t see it for once. If he didn’t know him so well, Herc would almost say Chuck was proud of him. But that might be a step too far. Instead he glares at Chuck as best he can through the tears and the smile on his face. 

"Not a word about the suit," he says.

"Not even that the suit makes you look like you’re an old man?"

Herc rolls his eyes and holds out Max’s leash to Chuck.

"Walk your dog," he orders him, “damn thing is more stubborn than you are."

Chuck takes the leash and Herc’s damned if Max doesn’t do his business right then and there. Chuck laughs and the sound is so pure that Herc almost starts crying all over again. Instead he reaches up and presses the back of his hand to Chuck’s forehead. Chuck tries to jerk back but Herc does it anyway and frown’s at the fever coming off his son.

"We need to get you to the medics," he says and Chuck rolls his eyes.

"I’m fine dad," he says.

"You walk with me or I get you a wheelchair," Herc says, his voice leaving no room for argument. For a minute he thinks Chuck’s going to rebel or tell him to go fuck himself. But Chuck sighs quietly and in a moment Herc doesn’t think he’ll ever forget, he nods. 

"No wheelchairs," he says.

Herc nods and together the three of them make their way back towards the shatterdome. 

"I’m proud of you son," Herc says quietly as they get closer to the floodlights. Chuck looks down at him sharply and Herc wonders when the last time he said that was, “you did good out there."

When they look at each other the clearest emotion isn’t anger.

It’s relief. 

"You too dad," Chuck says quietly.


End file.
